Never Stray from the Path
by Exilo
Summary: A retelling of my personal favorite fable: Little Red Riding Hood. There are no woodsmen in this story, mind you, no one to save our little heroine from the wolves that prowl the darkest night. Read and Review please. One shot.


**I wrote this for a contest on my college campus, I still don't know if I won or not, but if I do I'll be looking at a nice cash prize. I wish that I had submitted this before the contest deadline, so I can get some critique for it. Please, be brutal if you have to, I want good advice on how to improve it.**

Vanessa pulled her scarlet coat a little tighter as a cool wind blew and caught her beneath the blouse, sending a shiver through her whole body and leaving her skin with an uncomfortable tingle. She pressed on, her footsteps barely illuminated by the crescent moon's glow. Off in the distance, she could see the city that was her destination, still so far away she doubted she would reach it any time soon. To pass the time, she cursed. She cursed Toyota for making such poorly fuel efficient vehicles. She cursed the gas prices, and how high they were, and that she couldn't afford to fill up. She cursed every one of the motorists that just passed her by, not even stopping to see if she was alright. She cursed her grandmother for living so far away. Well, that wasn't fair. Her grandmother didn't deserve her wraith.

She heard the truck before she saw its headlights pierce the thick blanket of dark. It was an eighteen wheeler, and she moved well off the road out of fear that she would splatter against the grill while the driver excused her as nothing but a bug. To her surprise, the great truck ground to a halt a little while away. The passenger door opened in an obvious and inviting gesture. She was hesitant of course, years of her mother's warning didn't fade quickly, but she was also cold, and the thought of warmth outweighed her fears. Besides, she had the pepper spray she carried at her mother's insistence. That would keep any pricks at bay.

To her unimaginable relief, the truck's cab was warm without being uncomfortable and immediately she felt her frosted skin quiver as she embraced the warmth fully. So enticed was she in fact, she didn't even notice the driver until the truck started rolling along. He was not a large man, as the stereotypical trucker is: with a distended belly and broad dimensions, and a thick beard that stretched to his chest and aviator sunglasses. In fact, he was somewhat small, maybe 5'7" if he were standing, and a lean, almost skinny build which was only emphasized by the massiveness of the cab, his seat, and the steering wheel. He was wearing jeans, a white V-neck T-shirt, along with a black leather vest and a pair of pointed boots, apparel that just screamed modern day cowboy. He was cleanly shaven, but black hair was long and messy, tied back and framed behind his ears. He was handsome actually. Maybe a little too feminine in his dimensions and his nose was a little misshapen, and his ears were a little big, but it was his eyes that really made him something special. It was his eyes that kept his flaws at bay and made him more attractive than the average pretty boy. They were nothing as common as brown, or blue, or green. They were a soulful, rich grey. Deep and mysterious, soft and strong. Even in the darkness of the cab, she could see them flawlessly.

"The name is Larsen," he said with a gentle smile. She paused a long time, prompting him to take his eyes, those soulful grey eyes, off the road so he may confirm that she hadn't passed out. "What's your name?"

"Vanessa," she said quickly.

"Well, I'm headed to Dayton, how's about you?"

Again, she was silent a long time.

"Let's play a game. I'll say something, and then you say something in return, and we can go back and forth."

"I'm sorry," she said, chuckling. "I guess I'm still a bit numb from the cold. I'm headed to Dayton as well."

"Business or pleasure?"

"Bit of both you might say. I have to visit my grandmother. But my car ran out of gas."

"The blue SUV? I passed it about a mile back."

"Yeah, just died on me."

Larsen snapped his fingers. "Now I know where I've seen you before. You're the only teenager in America without a cell phone."

"I have a cell phone," she growled, pulling it out of her coat pocket to alleviate any suspicions. "But fucking Verizon has no service out here. 'We're good' my ass. I figured I could walk till I had some bars, but I would probably hit Dayton before then. I don't suppose you have a phone? I would like to call my grandmother?"

Larsen rummaged through his vest's pockets, at last unearthing his phone and handing it to her. Her grandmother didn't answer, most likely asleep since it was so late, so she handed it back to the trucker. Sadly, she didn't notice as he checked the caller I.D. and learned the address she was headed to. She was mesmerized by the speeding landscape so quickly flying by. Oh to be outside, in the cold, still trudging along.

"So what brings you to your grandmother's house?" he asked.

"What do you mean? She's my grandmother. It's nice to visit her every now and then. My mother works so much that she could never take me. I finally got my license a few days ago, and I wanted to show granny."

More speeding, for its size, the truck was moving amazingly fast. Zooming right along. She looked to the dashboard, and noted they were covering fifty miles an hour. How she shivered at the thought of the path not taken: if this truck had never pulled along the road, if the driver hadn't stopped, there was a very real chance that she would have simply collapsed; limbs heavy from the painful frost. A shapeless lump on the side of the road that passing motorists would pass as garbage.

"Thank you," she said to the trucker. "I swear, I think I would have frozen if I were out there any longer."

"No problem luv. We all got to look out for each other. I'll be dropping you here," Larsen said, the truck grinding to a slow, gentle stop.

"Thank you again," Vanessa smiled, as she climbed out.

"It was nice to have someone to talk."

Vanessa looked about, taking note of the buildings, the streets, and cursed as she realized her grandmother's house was still on the other side of the city. She cursed the driver, for despite his kindness, he just had to drop her so damn far off. And now he was gone, down the street in his nice warm truck while the uncomfortable chills returned. Groaning loudly, she pulled her coat tight and started off.

Her grandma's house was just as she remembered it: a squat little building, though now it was flanked by a Starbucks and a Wendy's rather than a library and a park. But it was definitely her grandmother's home, everything right down to her door being unlocked. No matter how many times she told her grandmother, she kept her door unlocked. This wasn't the town she had grown up in, but she just wouldn't accept that.

Vanessa tiptoed inside, gently knocking on her grandmother's door. When there was no answer, she opened the door a crack and peeked inside.

"Grandma?" she whispered into the darkness. She was going to assume her grandmother was asleep, but then, from the very back of the room, enveloped in darkness, and came a low croaking voice: "Yes?"

"It's me grandma."

"Oh, my dear. So good of you to come."

"I called you and told you I was coming."

"Oh, of course my dear. It must have just forgotten. This old mind doesn't work as well as it used to."

"You should get some sleep, granny. It's late, I'm sorry to have woken you. My car broke down and, well, I'll tell you all of it tomorrow."

"Its fine my dear. I've made you a little something in the fridge. Enjoy it."

Vanessa closed the door slowly and went down into the kitchen to fetch the food that she had been promised. Just as her grandmother had said; a steak and a wine glass of odd smelling spirit were alone on the mid-shelf of the refrigerator. For the first time she realized how long it had been since she last ate. Her hunger was unbearable. She nibbled at the steak, finding something odd in the taste but her famine was too great, and she tore a large chunk off and chewed tenderly. There _was_ an odd taste that could be passed off as any range of things. She didn't care much. It was too late to care. She took the wine, the cool glass chilling her hand and her lips as she touched the rim. It chilled her mouth and throat as she sipped; obscuring the strange metallic taste to the point it was unrecognizable.

With her belly full, she returned to her grandmother's room and peeked inside, taking note of the hump in the shadows that signified her grandmother was sitting up. "Granny?" she whispered.

"Yes my dear? How was your meal?"

"Alright," she lied.

"Come in my dear, my eyes aren't what they used to be, and I would like to get a good look at you. It's been too long since your last visit."

She opened the door a little wider and slipped inside, though didn't move very far.

"Please my dear, come closer," her grandmother croaked.

Eyes struggled to puncture the darkness. Vanessa looked to her side and turned on a side lamp, but its illumination was poor and still she could barely see her grandmother, bundled tight in her blankets. She moved closer, step by step, slow and careful. Before every step, her foot hovered over the ground, before slowly placing pressure on the floor as if she feared it would give way.

"Grandma, what big hands you have?" she said, noticing how tightly her grandmother was holding the sheet closed.

"The better to reach out and touch you with, my dear." She stretched a hand forward and gently stroked Vanessa's cheek, so gently, so tenderly, her face still hidden behind the veil of blanket and darkness. However, as she moved forward, her face moved ever so slightly in to the glow of the distant lamp.

"Grandma, what a big nose you have."

"All the better to smell your sweet scent with, my dear."

A grip took Vanessa around the wrist and dragged her forward, to the very edge of the bed, as her grandmother shrugged the blanket off.

"Grandma, what grey eyes you have."


End file.
